


friend make sense of me

by luxuries



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Drabble, M/M, Pining, Self-Doubt, Wishful Thinking, dreamnotfound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:35:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28090998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luxuries/pseuds/luxuries
Summary: George struggles over Dream's antics.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 77





	friend make sense of me

Last night felt wrong. It still clings to George's cheeks in a manner of splotchy reds and shame. Wondering if maybe _he_ took things too far, if maybe _he_ wanted it to go this way. Shutting off the webcam, ending his stream prematurely; it felt like a confession. See what this man does to me? See how I have made something out of nothing?

But there isn't a way to excuse some things. Not this. Not Dream's borderline compliments which tip between amiability and lust, which preside in the back of George's mind like the peach orange on his tongue with every sip of cheap lemonade. Draping his throat in sweetness and tanginess and something not quite right and artificial which tastes oddly familiar. Trying to discern when they were joking around and when Dream actually meant it- when it actually hurts. The little _You're so cute, George._ , the big _I wish we could always stay like this._ Like what? George wants to scream. What are we?! At some point he couldn't distinguish the difference between feeling loved and feeling wanted; hopes, selfishly, that it won't always be like this. 

Hopes Dream can draw the line, can paint a neon yellow divider between their two bodies on the bed they are laying in so that they can see the barrier of what can and cannot be said. Count the fingers on his jaw and figure out how many it takes to turn intimate. Five fingers feels like a good guess- he needs these things drawn out. George is too weak to do it himself. Too shy. His mother always told him he had to be more assertive, more 'manly'. More angry at the world and the people in it, be more like his father. Stop letting things go so easily. George doesn't tell anyone, doesn't even tell himself: but it feels so good to let Dream say all these pretty words. 

Or maybe he's seeing it all wrong; maybe Dream doesn't find him attractive, hates his laugh, despises the way he always budges in, wishes George wasn't so _much._

He hates the hours after a long stream. Something empties him out, he ponders over his worth. All these people, all these people. For what? It could have been anyone. Dream could've befriended anyone, someone more talented than him. More thoughtful. Less obnoxious. He struggles for sleep as he twists from one side to the next, drinks a bit more than he should till he can see his- his friend laying next to him when he squints and thinks real hard. See? The sheets crumple around his form, the pillows merge to become a breathing entity that lulls him to sleep. This ghost smells how he always thought Dream would smell. Like the day he painted his room blue, the summer air twisting with unhealthy chemicals as he sweats out all the creams and calories of the day, an arm brushing past his forearm to wipe off all the wetness. Why was he crying? Stop crying.

George breathes in but it's sputtery and weak. His hand hovers over his phone for a lifeline, remembers Dream's stern words.

 _You call me whenever you need anything, understood?_

He didn't, he never did. Friends aren't supposed to call each other for stability- for normality. Right? His mom complains about the ever increasing phone bill and George can't blame her. He hadn't ever spent a dime on his phone; he never had anyone to call. 

Is this what friends are supposed to do?

He doesn't call anyone.

**Author's Note:**

> title from a hole in the earth by daughter


End file.
